


Compliance

by shadowsong26



Series: Cartography [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5476961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsong26/pseuds/shadowsong26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after meeting Nick, Jody learns the rest of his story. Canon-compliant through 10x23.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compliance

**Author's Note:**

> As with most of my fic, I will be including the two skipped years (between S5/S6 and S7/S8) with regard to any timelining/date information. It isn’t super-relevant here, but just so you know. I have also relied on hells_half_acre’s timeline to calculate the length of referenced past events and orient this installment relative to early-S10 canonical events; it takes place somewhere between _Soul Survivor_ and _Hibbing 911,_ in early-mid September.
> 
> Many thanks again to tackygoldring for being an amazing beta.

Jody and Nick had been friends for almost exactly three years, and he’d faithfully kept his promise to stay in touch with her the whole time.

They didn’t actually meet up in person all that often--maybe two or three times a year, max--but they usually talked at least once every week or two. And they’d decided, starting that first year, to spend Thanksgiving together. Neither of them had any family left, after all, and spending the holidays alone kind of sucked. But Christmas wasn’t exactly festive for him anymore, and most other holidays she had to work, dealing with exuberant drunks and illegal fireworks and so on. So Thanksgiving became _their_ holiday. They’d pick up a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store (since neither of them actually knew how to roast a turkey; Sean and Sarah had taken care of that) and spend the evening together, watching old movies and just talking.

And she had, a couple times, had a repeat of that brief flash of _well, maybe_ that she’d had right after killing Oizys. Without the accompanying whiskey and adrenaline rush, even. But Nick never gave her any indication he might be interested, so she’d ignored it and dated other people in the meantime. Not so much since Crowley, of course, but before that.

He’d actually been her first call after that near-fatal disaster. Well, technically, Sam and Dean had called her first, frantic with guilt and worry, and she’d spent a good fifteen minutes convincing them she was fine. But then she’d called Nick because, even though there was no way in hell she could tell the boys, she really _wasn’t_ fine, and she knew it. She’d needed someone to fall apart on herself, and Nick was--he was that kind of friend. Even if he was probably not exactly stable yet himself, he was still…

Nick was the one person she could talk to about the _aftermath_ of that kind of ugly, in a way she couldn’t even with Sam and Dean. The boys were at this weird nexus of surrogate nephews-surrogate little brothers-superhuman mentors all at once. And Nick was...well, he was her _peer,_ in a way that even Bobby hadn’t been. Because, for all she and Nick had each taken out a monster or two, they were _both_ still more or less novices, on the fringes of the hunting world. And, on top of that, their stories on how they got there shared at least some surface details, which had helped them bond.

Despite all that, though, despite how close they’d gotten over time, when Jody finally found out who had possessed him, three years after they’d killed Oizys, it wasn’t even directly from him.

The process had started late the previous spring, a couple weeks after she adopted Alex. Alex had come to her with a book by Carver Edlund, since, as she put it, “Is it just me, or do the Sam and Dean in this book seem a lot like Sam and Dean your friends?”

Naturally, at that point, Jody had had to read the entire series. Because Alex was right, and, as weird as it was to get to know Sam and Dean (and Bobby) a little better this way, it was information she’d wanted to have. She took notes as she went; on things she wanted to ask them about in case she ran into a monster like that herself; on things that might lead to reactions she needed to keep an eye out for but would never, _ever_ ask them about directly unless she had no choice; and on things to tease them mercilessly about, as any self-respecting big sister or favorite aunt would.

But then Dean had disappeared and for two months, she’d put the books aside. It hadn’t really felt right to keep going, not when things with the boys were so up in the air. Eventually, to her profound relief, Sam had called and told her everything was fine, they were both alive and okay. He hadn’t given much explanation, but he’d passed the phone to Dean, and she knew he was telling the truth; or at least the most optimistic version of it he could manage. Whatever had happened, she sort of doubted they were both _okay_ with it yet, especially since things between them had been pretty tense the last time she’d seen them in person, before Dean’s disappearance. But they were both alive, and they were together. It was a start.

After that, Jody had gone back to the books and picked up where she left off, halfway through _Sin City._ Her reasons for reading them in the first place hadn’t changed, but the reason she’d stopped had. She continued powering on through the series, switching to her Kindle when she reached the end of the original set, taking notes just like before.

And then she’d hit _Sympathy for the Devil._

At first, it hadn’t quite clicked for her. Edlund had left out most of the identifying details--he didn’t give Nick’s hometown or last name, and left Sarah and Jamie’s names out entirely. And she was more focused on the half of the book that dealt with Sam and Dean and Bobby anyway. It wasn’t until Lucifer actually stopped torturing Nick and spoke, offering him a toxic lifeline out of his misery, that…

_I can give you justice. Peace._

_I’m here to bring you peace. I’m the only one who can. Remember?_

Jody had stopped there, and just stared at the page for a long minute. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe Oizys had meant something else, maybe…

She flipped back through the book and read through all the Nick chapters again, more carefully this time, going over every detail of his hallucinations and his nightmares, and his conversation with the Devil.

_I can give you justice. Peace._

That second read-through left her completely convinced.

Nick-- _her_ Nick--had been Lucifer’s vessel.

Jody set the book aside, and spent the next few days trying to sort through how the hell she was going to deal with this knowledge. At first--and she wasn’t all that proud of it--she had this knee-jerk, visceral, _how_ -could- _he_ response. He was her friend, after all, and it was all there, the hallucinations, the torture, in black and white for her to read.

But he’d still done something; made a bargain, made a choice that was...he’d _known_ who he was signing himself over to. And that name-- _that name_ \--had such weight to it that she couldn’t help but be horrified, and almost a little bit betrayed. Even though she knew (or at least the more rational part of her knew) that it hadn’t exactly been a free and willing choice. It didn’t matter. That knee-jerk, visceral reaction still hit her. _Hard._

It took her a couple days to talk herself down from it, to get past that name, to convince herself to keep looking at the larger picture, at the man she knew and cared for, at what had been done to him to get him to say yes. And once she did...well, in the end, she decided that it didn’t have to change much of anything. Not on her end of things, anyway.

After all, even--maybe especially--before she’d recognized him as her friend, she’d known the Nick in the book was being coerced. It was subtle, not like the bullshit Zachariah had pulled on Dean, but it was there. And, especially after adopting Alex, she knew damn well that good people could be manipulated into doing terrible things. The circumstances weren’t the same, of course, but similar enough that she couldn’t help but draw the parallel.

Besides, if she were truly honest with herself, she couldn’t be totally sure what call _she_ would have made if Lucifer had come at her through Sean and Owen the way he’d come at Nick through Sarah and Jamie. And how many other examples had she seen in these books, of people doing horrible things in the name of the people--of the family--they’d loved and lost?

Nick’s consent, if it could even really be called that, wasn’t any worse than Mary’s deal, or Dean’s; or John’s vengeance, or Sam’s. And they had _all_ led to the same damn place in the long run.

But even after working all that out, even after deciding that this didn’t have to make any substantive change to her friendship, she knew that this wasn’t something she could just pretend she had never learned. It didn’t change anything, no, but that didn’t mean she could leave it unsaid.

So now, a week and a half after reading _Sympathy for the Devil,_ she was about to have a truly awful conversation with one of her best friends. At least, since he was in the area, she could have the conversation in person. That would hopefully limit the chances for misinterpretation of anything either of them said.

And ten days was probably about the right amount of delay--the faster she could get it over with, the better, but she’d had that time to process what she’d learned from the Edlund book before seeing Nick. If she hadn’t, however much she didn’t really blame him, however much she knew he was still just as much a victim as he had been before, she probably would’ve said something she’d regret. Because that visceral, knee-jerk reaction had been still there.

But, thank God, she’d had that time to work her way past that reaction. So hopefully, once she figured out how to actually get the conversation onto the right topic, it wouldn’t go too badly.

They went through the usual catching-up conversation points pretty quickly--where Nick had been since they’d last seen each other earlier that summer, how Alex was adjusting to school, and so on. Jody kept looking for an opening, something she could tangent off of to maybe soften the blow as much as she could, but no real opportunity presented itself.

Finally, she just had to bite the bullet and dive in.

“There is something kinda serious I wanted to talk to you about,” she said.

He tensed a little, but nodded. “Okay?”

“I’ve been reading these books, by Carver Edlund,” she started, then paused for a second, trying to gauge his reaction.

He frowned a little, almost as if he knew something about that name was familiar, or meant something important, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Okay?”

“They’re about Sam and Dean Winchester,” she said. “And the Apocalypse.” Maybe that would be enough, maybe she wouldn’t have to spell it out and name his nightmare out loud.

He froze, the blood draining from his face so fast she thought he was going to pass out.

 _Shit!_ She took a step towards him, ready to catch him if he actually fell.

He flinched away from her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I--”

She stopped, just out of reach, figuring that any attempt at tactile comfort would just make things worse. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I screwed this up, I was waiting so I_ wouldn’t _screw it up,_ shit. “It’s okay,” she said. “Nick, it’s okay, I’m not--I’m not mad at you.”

He stopped babbling and just stood there, shaking, not looking at her and pretty obviously not believing her.

“I mean, I was at first,” she admitted. “But it’s...it wasn’t your fault, Nick, okay?”

He shook his head. “No, no, it was, I...I _c-consented,_ I…”

“You said the words,” she said. “But if what I read was anything close to the truth…” She let that hang for a second, and when he didn’t respond, asked, “how long did it last?”

“Wh-what?”

“The hallucinations. The torture.”

He flinched and wrapped his arms around himself, hunching over as if he was trying to make himself smaller, invisible.

 _Dammit, I’m doing this all wrong, I’m making things worse for him; this is the_ exact opposite _of how I wanted this to go…_

“Three...three days,” he said. “But it...but I…”

 _God._ The book hadn’t been clear, but she’d somehow had it in her head as twenty-four hours. Three _days_ of seeing his dead wife, hearing his dead child; three days of that kind of torture…

No wonder he’d accepted Lucifer’s offer so quickly, when it finally came.

“You were tortured for _three days,_ Nick,” she said, as gently as she could manage. “And...look, I’m a cop, okay? If there’s one thing they teach us, when it comes to interrogations, it’s that _everyone_ breaks eventually.” Not that she had ever actually _tortured_ someone, but the principle was the same.

“It’s...it’s n-not that...I knew...I knew w-what he was. Wh-what he would...w-would do to me. W-with me. I...s-so many people died, because I’m w-weak, because I…”

“You’re not weak, Nick,” she said. “The fact that you’ve held together as well as you have since then proves that. And...” For a moment, she searched for something else--anything else--she could say to convince him; and then, inspiration struck. “Do you know what a compliant victim is?”

“...no?”

“I went to this FBI seminar a couple years back, on serial killers,” she said. “And one of the things the agent talked about was compliant victims. Usually a girlfriend, or a wife, who’s been...who’s been so badly abused and broken down, so thoroughly conditioned by the killer that she not only looks the other way, she _helps_ him. She’ll help him find his victims, or even participate in...in whatever it is he does to them.” And assigning guilt to them was--well, it was right there in the name. They were complicit, at least to an extent, but they were still _victims._

But finally, _finally,_ that seemed to get through to him, at least a little. Or he uncurled a touch, anyway. “It doesn’t...it doesn’t absolve them. Or me.”

“Maybe not,” she acknowledged. “But, Nick...the way I see it, you’re not even _that_ culpable.”

He shook his head again.

“The thing about compliant victims, part of what makes them different from just outright hostages aiding violent criminals under duress, is that _they can leave._ It’s just that their conditioning is so complete that they _don’t,_ even when they have what seems to an outsider to be an opportunity to ask for help.” Which, again, made a compliant victim’s actual guilt a sticky question to try and untangle, but that wasn’t the point she was trying to make here. Her point was, if resisting angelic possession was _anything_ like how hard resisting demonic possession was in the books… “I read the book, Nick. I saw what he did to you. And I saw at least a little bit of how possession works. I’m pretty sure you didn’t _have_ that option.”

He shook his head, and looked down at his hands. “I should’ve fought harder,” he said, but some of the edge of panic had faded away, thank God. “I should have…”

Cautiously, she took another step towards him and, when he didn’t flinch this time, she took his hands. “I’m just...I wanted you to know that I knew. And that I don’t blame you for what you did. Okay?” _Even if you still blame yourself._

He nodded once without looking at her, and squeezed her hands slightly, at least acknowledging what she’d said. She was pretty sure he still didn’t really believe her, but it was a start, anyway. Baby steps, just like they kept telling each other.

But he was shaking again now, hard; since he hadn’t pulled away, she guided him over to a seat before he actually passed out. “Look, I’m sorry to spring this on you like this, and we don’t ever have to talk about it again if you don’t want to, but I...like I said, I figured we needed to talk about it at least once, you know? And I don’t...I don’t think there’s any way to...to make this conversation less hard.”

“Yeah. Y-yeah. I’m...” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I-I’m sorry, I...I should’ve told you. About...about h-him. Or...or at least...I know I...I just...I didn’t w-want you to hate me.”

“I don’t,” she said, relaxing a little--the storm had passed, and they would be able to move on and rebuild from here. “I mean, yeah, it might’ve been better to hear it from you,” _although, then I wouldn’t have had time to process, so maybe not,_ “but...I don’t hate you. I promise. I just...I want you to trust me, Nick, okay? You can talk to me, about anything.”

He nodded. “I’ll...I’ll try and remember that.”

“Good,” she said. “Do you...do you want water, or something, or…?” Now that the moment of crisis had passed, she wasn’t actually all that sure what she should do.

He blinked once, then shook his head. “No, no, I...can we just...talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Of course,” she said, then switched to the first topic that came into her head--something about the town’s plans for Oktoberfest. And slowly, slowly, Nick relaxed.

By the time she had to head home to Alex, things were almost back to normal between them, for which Jody was profoundly grateful. With any luck, having this secret no longer between them might even make things better in the long run. And having someone know his story, and know him personally, and not hate him for it might help Nick heal a little better.

But for now, Nick was okay, their friendship was okay--this conversation could have gone a hell of a lot worse. Whatever might come for them in the future, Jody was content with that for now.


End file.
